Pieces
by delia84
Summary: Picking up from the season 9 finale, these are a few missing pieces from the episode (as well as some guesses about what occurred post finale). Story will venture into the announced 4-month time gap.
1. Red Flags

_This story picks up during the season 9 finale episode. If you haven't watched it, please come back after you've seen the episode._

_I've been thinking through (and very slowly writing) some missing pieces/ guesses about what happened during the finale and post-finale. Work has just about stomped my creativity, but I have finally managed to finish a chapter! Let me know what you think — goal is to have this story finished by the season 10 premiere, but I have no idea how many chapters. _

_Disclaimer: I don't own Bones._

* * *

"Is Daddy in trouble? Why isn't he coming?"

"He has to meet some people here at the house."

"What people?"

"Some people." Brennan glanced at her daughter. "Finish putting on your shoes like I asked you to do, please."

"It's stuck." Christine wiggled her right foot into the stubborn shoe. "Help?"

Instead of alleviating the shoe problem, Brennan hurriedly shoved another two pairs of pants into Christine's duffel bag.

"Why did you get so many clothes?" Christine asked, suddenly suspicious of her mother's packing. "I don't want all of them."

"Just in case you need them."

"But I don't want them."

Ignoring her daughter's protest, Brennan leaned to pick up Christine, who immediately exclaimed, "My shoe!"

"We'll fix it later. Let's go tell Daddy goodnight." Brennan was already out of the bedroom and halfway down the hall. "Booth!"

He knew she was giving him a warning call, and he threw a dishtowel over the two smaller guns on their bar. Trying to put off his tension, he met his girls at the bottom of the stairs with a smile. "You ready for a sleepover at Grandpa's?"

"I don't wanna go."

"Nah, it'll be great." He held out his arms. "Come here for a second."

Immediately, Christine reached for him, winding her small arms around his neck. "Daddy, I wanna stay."

"I know." He pressed a long kiss to her forehead.

"Why can't you go?"

He gave Brennan a questioning look, and she hastily filled in the gap, repeating the line she had given Christine just moments earlier. "Daddy has a meeting."

"He's getting the bad guys."

Again, Booth shot Brennan a questioning look. This time, she looked at him helplessly and shrugged, silently mouthing the words, _"I didn't tell her that_."

"Well, that's part of my job," Booth remarked as he brushed Christine's hair away from her face. "You know that."

Christine's fingers tapped Booth's shoulder and she pointed toward the kitchen. "You have your vest."

"Yeah." Booth swallowed, glancing over his shoulder to see what else Christine might have spotted. "I do."

"Are you in trouble?" Her voice wavered slightly.

"No." Booth's answer was immediate and firm, and he closed his eyes as he squeezed Christine a little bit tighter. _"God, forgive me for lying to her."_

"Kiss Daddy goodnight," Brennan reminded gently.

"I love you, Christine." Booth kissed both of her cheeks and put on a brave smile when she returned the favor. "Be good for your grandpa."

"Night, Daddy. Love you."

"Booth?" Out of the corner of her eye, Brennan noticed several decorative items on the kitchen countertop, right next to what she knew had to be another block of wrapped C-4. "That vase by the sink is … "

_Why the hell was she worried about a stupid vase? _"Bones, at this point, I don't give a damn, and I'll buy you another one," he muttered through gritted teeth as he handed Christine back to her.

She simply nodded her assent. "I love you, Booth." Brennan's eyes, full of tears that she knew she couldn't shed in front of their daughter, pierced him. "I'll see you soon."

"Drive safely." He quickly put both arms around Brennan and Christine, hugging both of them tightly while giving Brennan a final hard kiss. "I love you."

"Remember what you promised me." One tear escaped her eye, and Booth reached to brush it off her cheek before Christine could notice.

"I do." He glanced out the window. "You need to go."

She nodded, and walked toward the back door before Christine could protest again. Booth turned and went back to the kitchen, reaching for the dish soap and one of the small vases by the sink. He immediately realized why Brennan had protested him using it — the tall, white vase was the vessel carrying the first flowers he had ever bought her. Just last week, he had arrived home with a surprise bouquet, and — after thanking him with a kiss — she immediately selected and filled the white vase with water.

"_You like that one, don't you?"_

_Turning toward him, she smiled. "You don't remember."_

"_Uh oh. I'm sorry?" he ventured cautiously._

"_Don't be sorry!" she laughed. "You gave me this years ago. After I found out about my mother."_

"_I did?" Booth vaguely remembered the flowers, but not the addition of a vase._

"_Yes. It was the first time you brought me flowers."_

"_And you've held on to it all these years?"_

"_Of course." _

Pulling himself out of his thoughts with a sigh, Booth returned the vase to its cabinet, reaching instead to replace it with a pitcher.

* * *

They went straight for Booth's truck, which was yet another red flag of the night to observant Christine. "Mommy, why aren't we taking your car?"

Brennan hurriedly buckled her daughter in, responding to Christine with a brisk, "Daddy's car is faster and has a full tank of gas."

"Do we need to go fast?"

Mentally kicking herself for revealing that yes, they did indeed need to go fast, Brennan shut the back door. Climbing in the driver's seat, she immediately started the SUV and threw it into reverse. "No, not really. I just wanted to drive the truck. And sometimes I do like to drive fast."

That answer kept Christine quiet, but as Brennan raced down the street toward the freeway, the little girl recognized the edge to her mother's voice. She rubbed her eyes and decided to watch the lights out the window. Within five minutes, her eyes began to droop ever so slightly, and she would have fallen asleep, were it not for the interruption of SUV's Bluetooth system, signaling a phone call.

Startled, Christine's jumpy eyes darted up to the speaker in Brennan's car. She stayed quiet as she listened to her mother dialogue back and forth with Mr. Fisher.

"That could help Booth discern from which direction they would attack."

_Attack? _Christine glanced up at the rearview mirror to try to catch her mother's expression.

"Or how they would shoot."

Jerking her head back up at the word 'shoot,' Christine's eyes widened at the news from her mother's intern. _Daddy really was in trouble._

* * *

_It killed me not to see Booth tell Christine goodbye in the actual episode. Anyone else?_


	2. Charges

_Thanks for your kind reviews to chapter 1. This one picks up in the same episode, but slight time jump — just more of the missing pieces from the finale. _

_Disclaimer: I don't own Bones._

* * *

Had Booth been conscious, he would have seen Brennan's panic-stricken eyes, wide with fear. "Don't you die." Her voice was frantic and urgent, with a hint of despair. As her fingers worked to strip off his protective vest, she fought the urge to vomit. _There's so much blood. Too much blood. Oh Booth._

She rocked back on her heels, fumbling to look around for a phone. "Booth, stay with me. Do you hear me? Stay with me, baby."

"Hello?"

Startled by the voice, Brennan immediately reached to grab whatever was nearby — which happened to be a large piece of wood from what used to be the coffee table.

"Seeley? Hello?"

"Who's there?" She tightened her grip on the makeshift weapon.

"Temperance?" A figure appeared through the hole of their former front door. "It's Will."

"Will." Realizing the voice belonged to their police officer neighbor, Brennan's voice gave away her relief.

"And Shannon," came a female voice.

"Where are you?"

"Near the kitchen."

"What the hell happened?" The sound of crunching glass and debris stopped momentarily. "Is it safe?"

"I think so … hurry. I need help."

"Are you hurt?" Her neighbor came into view, brandishing his gun. "Is anyone else here?"

"No, no, it's just us."

"Oh my god." Shannon clasped a hand over her mouth. "Temperance ... is he …"

"I need a phone," Brennan requested.

"Already called it in," Will stated, kneeling next to Booth. "We pulled onto the street and heard gunshots."

"They'll be here any minute." Shannon tried to be reassuring. "Temperance, what do you need?"

"Towels — something to stop the blood." She pressed her hands back to Booth's chest. "Booth? Stay with me. We've got help."

"Here's good, right?" Will placed his hands near Brennan's on Booth's chest.

"Yes. Apply pressure."

"Here." Shannon had managed to locate a few dishtowels, and Brennan positioned them on Booth's chest. "What else?"

"Hold them to his chest." Brennan looked over at Will, eyeing the gun beside him. "Would you stand outside and watch?"

"Is someone else coming?"

"I don't know." Her voice faltered, and she looked ready to say something else until the wail of sirens interrupted her.

"Oh thank God." Shannon gave a brave smile as Will stood up to move towards the front door. "Seeley, the paramedics are here. Just hang on."

The next few minutes were a blur. A stream of police officers, firefighters, and paramedics filled the downstairs within seconds.

"Who's the homeowner?"

"They are," Will indicated to Brennan and Booth. "Seeley Booth — FBI — and Temperance Brennan."

"Ms. Brennan?" An officer approached Brennan, who was still kneeling by Booth, hands plastered over his wounds. "I'm going to need to ask you a few questions."

"My husband needs medical attention! Now!"

"I can see that, ma'am. Let the paramedics handle it, and let's step outside the house and ..."

"He's_ dying_!" Brennan cried. "If we don't get him help now …"

"I understand, but we need to …"

"Listen, Drews." Glancing at the officer's badge, Will stepped between him and Brennan. "You must be new or something, but did you not hear me earlier? This man is an FBI agent. Get him and his wife in the ambulance. Now. You question her later."

"I have orders to …"

"Booth!" Brennan reached as the paramedics lifted him onto a stretcher. "I need to go with him."

"That's not possible, ma'am. Like I said …"

"I'm calling your superior. Right now." Will pulled out his cell phone.

"Listen here, I'm an officer …"

"And so am I. Now shut up and let Dr. Brennan join her husband."

"Look man, I don't like it either, but I'm under strict orders not to …"

"Temperance," Shannon hissed quietly. "Go. Before they make you stay. Go."

Before the officers could notice or stop her, Brennan took Shannon's advice and slipped out the front door, following on the heels of the paramedics.

* * *

A kind nurse finally escorted a shell-shocked Brennan out the CCU's hall and back to the East Wing waiting room. "Dr. Brennan, do you have someone to stay with you while your husband is in surgery?"

She shook her head.

"Would you like me to sit with you for a minute?"

"I'm OK," Brennan whispered hoarsely.

"I know." The nurse smiled. "Could I get you anything? Water? Can I call anyone for you?"

"Someone's … on the way." She didn't actually know that, but Brennan knew it was only a matter of time before Angela or Cam walked through the hospital doors.

"OK. Don't hesitate to ask at the front desk if you need anything. I'll let you know if I hear anything."

"Thank you."

Brennan was right — she barely had ten minutes before Angela, Hodgins, Cam, Caroline, and Sweets all came through the doors of Roosevelt Memorial's CCU area. She couldn't get any words out to Angela, who immediately enveloped her in a tight embrace. After half a minute, Brennan pulled away from Angela, whose concern-filled face studied the haggard and desperate expression of her best friend.

"Sweetie."

As if on cue, Brennan began to sob.

Once again, Angela reached to embrace her, allowing Brennan to bury her head on her shoulder. "It's OK. Go ahead … get it all out."

While Cam approached the front desk to see about obtaining information, Hodgins and Sweets sat quietly as Angela and Caroline attempted to console Brennan, who didn't let go of Angela for several minutes. When her shuddering sobs finally ceased, Angela took the opportunity to get her outside the waiting room.

"Let's go get your hands and face cleaned up." Angela suggested as she gently lifted Brennan's chin. "You think you need stitches there?"

"N-no." Brennan wiped her eyes and followed Angela to the bathroom area. "It's not deep."

"Maybe we'll get Cam to look at it just to be sure." Angela held open the door and let Brennan enter first. "What happened? To your chin, I mean."

"I got thrown into the dishwasher." She reached for a Kleenex on the counter to blow her nose. "Kicked into it, actually."

"Guess I better check your ribs and stomach, too." Angela took several paper towels and ran them under the sink. "Here, let's take care of your face first." Gingerly, she dabbed cold water on Brennan's chin, cheeks, and under her eyes. "Anything else hurt?"

"Just my chin."

"Good." Angela pointed at the sink. "Splash some water on your face to rinse it off."

Brennan dutifully obeyed, and Angela presented her with clean and dry paper towels to dry her face. "Next up – your hands need a good scrub." She grabbed the soap dispenser and squeezed a healthy amount onto Brennan's fingers. "Lather up."

"Oh." Brennan gazed at her extremities, still stained with blood.

"Slip your rings off and I'll clean them while you scrub." Angela held out her hand for Brennan's jewelry.

"OK." Brennan wiggled the two rings off her fingers. "I feel like a child. I can't even think."

"That's OK," Angela assured her, already working on cleansing Brennan's wedding band. "I'll think for you right now. You're just in a shock for a bit."

"Ang." Brennan's voice dropped to a near whisper. "I don't know if he's going to …"

"Stop it." Firmly, Angela cut off her best friend. "We're not talking about that right now. He's in surgery, and we're going to wait until we hear from the doctors. Don't rush into anything."

"But I saw him. He was bleeding out … right under my hands."

"Brennan …"

The bathroom door opening interrupted Angela, and Cam mercifully cut off their conversation. "Caroline wanted me to check on you two."

"Good. Cam can check you for bruises. That's really not my area of expertise unless it's my kid."

"I'm fine," Brennan tried to protest.

"Well, we're checking you anyway." Cam gazed at Brennan's face. "Your chin OK? How hard did you hit it? Concussion?"

"No." Brennan shook her head, and then realized she might need to reconsider. "I, uh, I don't think so."

"Guess we'll be watching your responses and checking for headaches tonight." Cam gently touched near Brennan's chin. "This will be tender for a bit. Good news is it's not deep enough for stitches."

"Check her ribs," Angela requested.

"May I?" Cam reached for Brennan's shirt hemline, and Brennan let out an exasperated sigh. "I promise, I'll be quick."

"Fine." Brennan raised her arms to help Cam get a better look.

"Yikes. Little bruising there."

"Yeah." Brennan sucked in a breath as Cam gently touched the area. "That's what happens when you get roundhouse kicked into a dishwasher."

"Nothing broken?" Cam questioned.

"No." Brennan readjusted her hemline. "It's sore, but not unbearable."

"Good."

* * *

The group spent several hours in the waiting room, barely saying anything to each other. When the doctor finally appeared, Brennan bounded up out of her seat and immediately bombarded him with questions.

"There is one problem, Dr. Brennan." The doctor looked hesitant.

"What kind of problem?"

Brow furrowing, Hodgins immediately narrowed his eyes, suspicious. Instinctively, he put a hand on Angela's lower back.

"Someone will be out in a minute to talk to you. Until then, I think it's important …"

Just as she had done earlier in the night at her own home, Brennan stopped listening and bolted through the open door into the critical care unit. Finding her way through the unfamiliar corridor, it only took her half a minute to find him.

"Booth." She let out a relieved exhale.

For the hundredth time that night, everything became a blur. She found herself asking why Booth was handcuffed, and suddenly she was being roughly escorted out of the room.

"Take Dr. Brennan into custody for questioning."

"No!" Snapping out of her daze and defaulting back to her years of martial arts training, Brennan deftly pulled her wrist out of the grasp of one of the agents who was clearly preparing to handcuff her. "No! No, I need to stay with him! Booth!"

"Get her out!"

"Booth! Booth!" She saw his eyes flutter open. "Let go of me!"

"Get her out!" came the repeated order.

"Booth! Booth!" she continued to scream his name, unsuccessfully fighting to release herself from the grip of the two agents hauling her out of the room, past the nurses' station toward the exit doors. "Help!"

Going right back through the very doors that had given her entrance, the agents nearly dragged Brennan through the hall and into the waiting room.

"Brennan!" Angela lunged for her.

"Ang!"

"Ma'am, do not inhibit a federal investigation!" came the order from one of the agents.

"She didn't do anything!" Angela managed to get a hand on Brennan's shoulder, and it was immediately slapped away.

"Angie, no!" Hodgins wrapped his arms around his wife, pulling her away from the officers. "Let her go!"

"No! Let go of me!" Angela struggled in his grasp, and Sweets quickly joined to assist Hodgins.

"Hodgins, hold her tight — do not let her attack those agents!" Caroline's booming voice carried throughout the waiting room. "Where are you taking her?"

"Caroline! Don't let them take me!" Brennan's eyes were wild, and she fought with everything she had left in her exhausted system.

"I'm her lawyer! Where are you taking her?" Caroline demanded.

"Contact the FBI. She's under arrest."

"What?" Sweets exclaimed.

"Bullshit," Cam spat. "Someone screwed up your orders. Let her go."

"Can't do that." With that, the officers mustered up enough strength to get Brennan out of the door, as Caroline followed at their heels.

"Let me go!" Angela shrieked, trying her best to slap both her husband and Sweets, who still restrained her. "I've got to go to her! She can't leave him!"

"Sir?" The attendant at the front desk approached Sweets. "I'm going to have to ask your group to leave. You can't cause a disturbance like this."

"Figured … sorry." Sweets glanced at Hodgins. "Let's get outside."

By the time they got outside, Brennan was already inside a van and pulling away. Caroline merely had a dejected look on her face, and Angela, now free from Sweets, began to beat her closed fists against Hodgins.

"Why did you do that to me!?"

"Angie. Shh."

"Why?!"

"Keep her quiet or they're going to ban us from the property," Cam warned Hodgins.

"Angela. Baby, please be quiet. I know you're mad."

"We couldn't have you get arrested," Sweets began.

"Shut up!" she screamed.

"We need to get out of here," Cam began walking toward Caroline, who was walking toward the parking garage. Sweets followed suit, trailing just behind Angela and Hodgins.

As she walked, stoic Caroline pulled out her phone, dialed, and waited for a moment in silence. "Get me any charges brought against Dr. Temperance Brennan. Now."

The group, save Angela, who was still furiously berating Hodgins, grew silent as they waited for Caroline's news. When she came to a halt and ended the phone call, the group stopped walking. Angela became quiet and finally stopped yelling, letting her tears begin to flow instead of her cursing.

"What is it?" Cam broke the silence.

"Arrested." Caroline heaved a sigh.

"For what?"

"Fleeing the scene of a crime, obstruction of justice, and …" Caroline's voice wavered, "… voluntary manslaughter."

* * *

_Raise your hand (or leave a review) if you hate me? Or raise your hand (or leave a review) if you trust me?_


	3. The Phone Call

_Sorry about the delay — thanks for your patience and kind reviews. I know this is a short one, but I'm hoping to finish another chapter today. (Here's to hoping today's rainy weather makes me stay inside and keep writing!)_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Bones._

* * *

She had survived being beaten numerous times, had a assortment of weapons (from a variety of tribes, villains, and armed forces) pointed, aimed, and sometimes fired or hurled at her, gone without food or water for days, had been strung from a beam by her wrists, escaped being buried alive, survived being hit by a car, and lived through countless other traumatic events.

Yet despite all of her history, Brennan was quite sure she had never felt so confused, frightened, and powerless. Hand trembling, she managed to hold the clunky prison phone to her ear for her sole phone call, finally granted to her hours after her arrest.

"Caroline?" Brennan's urgent and desperate tone wasn't lost on observant prosecutor.

"Cher, are you OK?"

"No." Brennan bit her lip and swallowed, trying to regain the tenuous hold on her composure. "Caroline, I don't have very long."

"I know. Tell me what you need."

"I need you to check on Booth. I …"

"I'm on it."

"OK." Brennan was losing the fight with her emotions, letting out a telltale sniffle. "Christine …"

"She's with Max tonight, right?"

"Uh huh."

"_Have I ever heard an 'uh huh' come out of the good doctor's mouth before? That hit to her head must have been harder than she realized,"_ Caroline silently mused before speaking into the phone. "How do you want me to help with her?"

A shuddering exhale preceded Brennan's question. "You've got our POA, right?"

"Yes."

"I think that explains everything. Doesn't it?"

"Yes. When would you like her to go to Hodgins and Angela?"

Tears began to roll down Brennan's face at the mention of her friends, mentally recalling Angela's hysterical and violent outburst at the hospital just hours ago. "Is Angela all right?"

"She's calmed down." Caroline was fairly certain she was telling Brennan a lie, but she knew it was necessary. "Hodgins and I have already spoken about Christine. They're prepared."

"She should just stay with Dad tonight … it's late."

Caroline murmured an affirmative, "Uh huh. They'll get her in the morning. Does that sound OK?"

"Yes. She's got enough clothes for a few days. Make … make sure Angela has access to the bank account."

"I will." Silently, Caroline wondered if all Booth and Brennan's assets had already been frozen, but she knew it was best not to bring that up for discussion.

"Caroline? My father … he …" At a momentary loss for what to say, and knowing her every word was being monitored, Brennan hesitated before admitting, "I don't know what he'll do."

"Will he fight for Christine?"

"I don't know." She sighed. "He's aware of our POA terms, and at the time we wrote it, he agreed to all of it."

"He'll honor your wishes."

"I don't know that he will."

"I'll make sure of it." Caroline wasn't afraid of Max Kennan, and knew the man well enough to understand that if he was going to do something reckless, he wouldn't involve his granddaughter.

"I have to go — they're saying I only have a minute left."

"Dr. Brennan, I'm sorry to ask, but did they read you your charges?"

"Yes."

"Did they Mirandize you?"

"Yes." Brennan paused, absentmindedly rubbing a sore spot on her wrist left by the handcuffs. "The charges — I didn't do …"

"Not a word. We'll talk about the charges later. Maybe tomorrow. I'm going to try to come see you if they insist on keeping you."

"OK." She sniffled. "Thank you."

"You can thank me when I get you out of there. Be safe and stay quiet."

"I will."

"Is there anything else I can do?"

Brennan's response came immediately: "Kiss Christine for me and tell her I love her."

"She knows, cher," Caroline murmured. "But I will. Don't you worry about her."

* * *

_POA may not be a familiar term for everyone (especially readers outside the US) — it means "power of attorney." Basically, it's something you draw up with a lawyer authorizing someone to act on your behalf. _


	4. Waking Up

_Sorry about the delay! I was really hoping to get this finished by the premiere, but I've still got a few chapters to go._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Bones._

* * *

His throat burned, and his eyelids felt like they were welded shut. Fighting to get at least one eye partially open, Booth groaned as a sliver of light temporarily blinded him. Automatically, he tried to lift his right hand to his eye to rub it, and found himself unable to get the hand to move. He tried to move his left arm and held back a scream before deciding to give up on movement. As he focused again on opening his eyes, he became disoriented by the noise of monitors.

"Easy there," came an unfamiliar voice. "Don't fight."

He tried to form words, but could only groan weakly.

"Relax. You might not be able to speak yet. That's OK."

He swallowed, feeling the unpleasant burn as he tried again to form words. Managing to get one eye open, he blinked furiously at the outline of a person several feet away from him.

"Can you see me?"

He gave a slight nod, wincing as his head throbbed with the motion.

"That's good." The shape moved closer, and Booth's vision gradually began to clear a bit. "I'm Rachel. I'm one of your nurses tonight." She studied her patient's confused expression. "You're in the hospital. You've sustained several gunshot wounds, and you've been in surgery."

"_So that's why I feel like I got blown up,"_ Booth thought, still groggily trying to focus on the woman in front of him.

Rachel continued, "You're in the ICU. You've been out of surgery for a couple of hours."

"My … wife," Booth finally uttered, the words still difficult to pronounce from his sore, dry lips.

"She's not here." Noticing Booth's concerned expression, Rachel quickly added, "But she's OK."

"She's … here." Finally able to get his other eye open, Booth was looking around the room, moving his head slowly as he searched for Bones.

Rachel shook her head. "No sir, she's not here."

Booth knew he had heard Brennan's voice earlier, and he was fairly certain he had seen her, too. His next word, nearly coming out as two syllables instead of one, thanks to his parched throat, was harsh and clear: "Liar."

The nurse, seemingly unoffended, simply shrugged her shoulders. "Well, I guess you remember what happened earlier. But no, I'm not lying. She's not here." Rachel glanced over her shoulder, and slowly, Booth followed her gaze. "That's Doug. He's been here all night, too."

Booth's eyes narrowed as he squinted to see the dark figure at the doorway of his room.

"He's with the FBI. He's your guard. And fair warning — he's going to cut me off if I say something that I'm not supposed to say." Rachel sighed. "Your wife was here earlier. They wouldn't let her stay because you're under arrest."

A series of choice curse words flew through Booth's brain, and he opened his mouth to express his displeasure.

"Hold up, no reason to talk or ask questions yet," Rachel anticipated. "Let me finish and then we can see about you talking." She pointed to Booth's wrist. "That's the reason you can't lift your arm. And no, I can't take it off. I'm really sorry about that."

"_They handcuffed me to the bed? Where am I — prison? No, wait … she said hospital."_ He stared at his right hand in bewildered disbelief.

"You're under watch by the FBI and I get to stay in here all night, too." She gave him a halfhearted smile. "Sorry that you're stuck with me. I'm the only critical care nurse with a law degree, so they make me do stuff like this. Now before you ask any questions, I want to check your pain. On a scale of one to five, with one being nothing and five being unbearable, where are you? Try holding up fingers to show me … let's test those muscles."

Gradually, Booth forced his index finger and thumb together, brandishing three shaky fingers.

"Liar." She winked and laughed. "No way in hell do you feel that good. You died in the ER tonight — twice. And once in the operating room." She watched as his eyes widened. "Yeah, that's right. You're lucky to be here. Now let's try that again. How many fingers?"

His index finger extended, joining the other three fingers.

"A four — now that sounds more like it. Let's get you another dose ready to go."

"No." He knew it would make him fall asleep again.

"I'm just going to get it ready. I'll give you a few minutes to talk." She rummaged around the table next to his bed. "What do you need?"

"My … wife."

"I can't get her in here, sir. I'm sorry. For the record, I'm not happy about it either."

Booth paused. "Water."

"Yeah, now that I can do. Just a sip, though."

His nose wrinkled in disapproval.

"Sorry. Can't let you drink a lot in case they have to take you back for more surgery. Maybe in a few hours after you've proved you're going to stick around for a bit."

Booth gratefully accepted the cup held to his slips and slurped greedily. When Rachel moved the cup, he frowned instinctively.

"Sorry." She smirked at the disappointed look on his face. "Maybe more in a couple of hours."

"When … do I see … my wife?" The water helped Booth's throat not burn quite so badly.

"He's talking a lot." The guard moved slightly closer to Rachel. "They're going to want to speak to him."

"You'll have to take that up with the doctor." Rachel nodded at the clock on the wall. "In thirty seconds, I have to give him these pain meds. He'll be out for at least a few hours."

* * *

_Saved by the drugs, Booth …_


	5. Don't Do Anything Stupid

_Bet y'all thought I gave up on this, huh? Not yet! Still continuing on, despite the fact that we've got half the newest season of Bones in the books. (I'm not taking anything from those episodes, just continuing on with where my previous chapter left off. Hey, that makes this spoiler-free for season 10!)_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Bones._

* * *

"What are we going to tell her?"

"Depends on what she asks."

"She's half Brennan. She's going to ask a million questions."

A smile crossed Hodgins' face. "And half Booth, which means another million questions."

"The child-rearing books and mommy blogs don't prepare you for something like this. What the hell am I supposed to tell her when both her parents are under arrest and her house exploded and her father almost died?"

"We are never telling her about Booth. Ever."

Angela simply sniffled.

"Hey." Hodgins took one hand off the steering wheel and placed it on Angela's knee. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"I know." Angela wiped her eyes. "Dammit."

"We're almost to Max's."

"You don't think I know that?" she retorted. "Maybe I should just cry again and try to get it all out of my system."

Hodgins sighed, and wisely tried a different approach. "You think Max is going to give us any trouble about taking her?"

"He better not." Angela shook her head. "And if he does … I'm not having any of it. She's coming home with us until Bren is out."

"It's probably a good thing — for everyone."

"What do you think he's going to try to do once Christine isn't around?"

Hodgins was silent for a few seconds. "I don't know. And the more I think about it, the more I realize that I probably don't want to know."

"Me neither. I want to honestly be able to tell Brennan that I had no idea when he decides to do something horrible in the name of protecting her."

"Maybe he won't."

Dubiously, Angela eyed her husband. "You and I both know better than that. He's not going to let anyone force her to leave and run again."

"Are we giving Max an out to do whatever he wants?" Hodgins hesitated. "Maybe we shouldn't pick up Christine. Surely he wouldn't take her with him on his crazy escapades."

"No." Angela immediately disagreed. "You know what we've promised Brennan and Booth. We're the ones who take care of her when something like this happens. Plus, Caroline's got the POA. We're legally bound to be her guardians until this is resolved."

* * *

The normally precocious, chatty Christine was oddly quiet when Angela and Hodgins arrived at Max's house. She barely acknowledged them and stayed quiet as Hodgins helped her gather her toys and repacked her bag.

"You look like hell," Angela observed, noticing the dark circles under Max's eyes. "Rough night?"

"She woke up around 3 am. Once she realized Tempe and Booth weren't here, she pretty much didn't go back to sleep." He sighed. "I've never seen her like this."

"I guess it's to be expected."

"She won't eat either."

"Oh, now that I anticipated … just like her mother." Angela glanced around his kitchen. "Did you try junk food?"

"Yeah, she had maybe two scoops of ice cream this afternoon. Took one bite of her PB and J earlier for lunch and declared she wasn't hungry."

"Breakfast?"

"She drank her juice."

"No food?"

Max shook his head. "And I didn't want to force her."

"She'll eat when she's hungry." Angela pursed her lips. "Hopefully."

He lowered his voice to ask his questions. "Any news on Tempe? Or Booth?"

Angela shook her head. "Booth's stable — still in ICU. Not out of the woods yet."

"Have you seen him yet?"

"No, Cam was barely able to get that out of a doctor friend at the hospital. They won't let any of us in there. They wouldn't even let Bren in right now."

"Bastards."

"Listen." Angela bit her lip and briefly hesitated. "I don't know or frankly care if you're going to be around, but please answer your cell if Hodgins or I call you."

Max gave Angela a confused stare. "What?"

"Christine needs consistency. And family. Right now, you're the only one who's reachable. Please answer if we call you."

He nodded.

"She needs her grandpa," Angela leaned to whisper into his ear, "And don't do anything stupid."

Max raised an eyebrow.

"And Brennan? She needs you, too. You can't abandon her again."

"You honestly think I'd …"

"I don't know what you'll do. And I don't want to know."

* * *

_I know it was short, but I'm working on the next one — hoping to finish it this weekend. Thanks for reading._


	6. Storms

_Bet y'all thought this story was never coming back, huh? It hasn't died in my head yet, so I'm going to keep chipping away for a while longer. Thanks for your patience._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Bones._

* * *

A slow rumble echoed throughout the house and Angela watched as Christine tightened her grip on a stuffed rabbit, borrowed from Michael Vincent. Angela placed a hand on the stuffed animal and stroked a soft, worn spot on one of its ears. "Is this guy helping the storm not be so scary?"

"Kinda," Christine whispered, still staring at the window to watch for more lightening. "I wish it was Al, though."

Apparently in her haste to get out of the house before Booth and the attackers destroyed nearly everything, Brennan had failed to pack Christine's stuffed rabbit Al, which was nearly identical to the one her parents had given Michael Vincent at his birth. Angela was silently hoping the poor rabbit could still be recovered from the ruins of the home.

"I know."

"Can't we go get Al?"

Angela shook her head. "I'm sorry, Christine. Hopefully we'll find him soon." Upon realizing Christine's favorite stuffed animal was missing, Angela had texted both Wendell and Finn, who had managed to sneak into the Booth/Brennan home for a few minutes earlier that day. She urged them to return to look for Christine's prized possession — as well as anything else that might be salvaged.

She gazed back at Christine. "You sure you're not sleepy?"

Christine shook her head.

"OK." Angela planted a kiss on her goddaughter's hair, still damp from a bath earlier in the evening. "I think I'm going to fix popcorn. Would you like some?"

A simple shake of the head answered Angela's question.

"Well, how about another cookie?" She watched as Christine's brow furrowed — a surefire tell just like her mother's. "I think that might be a yes, huh?" She grinned and lightly tapped a finger over the tiny lines between the little girl's eyebrows.

A clap of thunder made both of them jump, and Christine promptly dove into Angela's lap. Angela began to laugh, only to be promptly stopped by a sob from the little girl.

"Hey, what's wrong? Are you scared?" Angela watched as a nod answered her. "It's OK, I'm right here. We're safe inside. Come on, let's get those cookies and my popcorn." She swung Christine onto one hip, feeling the child's arms tighten around her and realized, _"She is really scared. Why on earth can't I remember what we did when Michael Vincent went through this phase?"_

Christine was eerily quiet as she watched Angela's moves around the kitchen. She clung to Angela, staring in silence as they both waited for the popcorn to finish.

"You sure you don't want any? I'll make you up a bowl that doesn't have any spices in it."

Again, Christine shook her head.

"OK." Angela opened the microwave to retrieve her snack, internally wanting to groan at the time displayed on the digital counter: _"1:07 a.m. I'm never going to get this child to sleep."_ She struggled with opening the popcorn bag for a moment before setting Christine down on the countertop. Almost immediately, the exhausted little girl's lip began to quiver.

"Sweetie, hey." Angela gave a reassuring smile. "I just need both hands for a minute to fix these snacks." She tried to distract Christine by asking her to help pull several small bottles from the spice rack, but after a minute, it was clear Christine was about ready to cry again.

"OK, OK." Angela tossed a few shakes from the paprika jar onto the popcorn, and then reached for Christine again. "Can I hand you my popcorn bowl? I need a free hand to get your cookies." She reached for a higher cabinet and pulled out a small container. "You like chocolate chip, right?"

"Uh huh."

"Good. We have those and a few thin mints." Angela headed back into the den, her arms full with Christine, popcorn, and the cookies. "And I'll even share the thin mints with you if you want." She lowered her voice to whisper with a grin, "Don't tell Uncle Jack."

Christine gave a quizzical look.

"I have to hide them from Uncle Jack. He eats all of them if he sees them."

"Oh." Christine gave an understanding nod. "Mommy does the same thing with Daddy sometimes."

"Yep. It's a mommy secret."

* * *

A little over an hour later, Hodgins stepped into the den, his acute case of bedhead communicating to Angela that he had indeed been asleep without her for a while.

"Angie, when are you coming to bed?" His voice, though husky from sleep, still had a concerned tone.

She held out a thin mint as a peace offering and scooted over on the couch as an invitation for him to join her.

"Still not asleep, huh?" Hodgins glanced over at Christine, who was on the other end of the couch, staring at the TV, not acknowledging that Hodgins had joined them.

"Yeah. Not a fan of storms."

"Why don't you just put her in bed with us?" Hodgins sighed. "I know, I know … you're not a fan of doing that, but …"

"We quit doing it with Michael when he was two – we can't do now with her. Plus, that will keep both of us awake. At least one of us should be somewhat alert tomorrow at work."

"I guess." Hodgins ran one hand through his hair and put the other arm around Angela's shoulders. "I'll take the shift tomorrow night."

"Deal." Angela had just settled in comfortably, leaning on Hodgins' shoulder, when a clap of thunder sent Christine scurrying into Angela's lap again. After the sky lit up briefly, Christine buried her face in Angela's chest and began to cry again.

"Shhhh." Angela gently pressed one hand over Christine's ear to block out the following rumble. "Sweetheart, it's just a storm. We're OK."

Christine was not to be consoled that quickly, and the storm kicking back up didn't help things. After ten minutes, frustrated Angela found herself trying not to join Christine in crying.

"Be right back." Hodgins sprang up from the couch, headed straight for Michael Vincent's room. He returned seconds later with bulky neon green headphones, a recent gift from Angela's father. Plugging them into his phone, he scrolled for a moment or two before leaning over toward Christine. "Hey. We're going to block out the scary storm, OK? Can you put these on for me?"

Bewildered, Christine blinked away some of her tears. "W-what?"

"Let's try these on." Hodgins slipped the headphones over Christine's blonde hair and tapped his phone screen. He waited, watching Christine's reaction. When she didn't appear upset, he picked her up from Angela's lap and slowly paced around the room with her.

Almost five minutes of silence had gone by before Angela dared to open her mouth. "You are a genius."

"She's not asleep yet."

"No, but she's calm for the first time all night."

Hodgins grinned. "I'm just wondering why we didn't think to do this when Michael Vincent went through his 'storms are scary' phase."

"I never thought I'd say this, but remind me to thank my dad for those headphones."

* * *

_Next chapter is already partially written, so hopefully it won't take months (like this one did). Thanks for reading._


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